The Right Thing
by Tibbins
Summary: Continuation of 13x06. While Sam and Cas go searching for Jack, Dean finds trouble. Some graphic descriptions of violence. Destiel.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone, so I've been a little slower on fic writing this week but still, here's another one.**

 **Set maybe an hour or so after 13x06**

 **Some graphic descriptions, please be warned.**

 **Enjoy ^_^**

"Well, where would he go?" Cas asked for what felt like the millionth time, pacing the length of the table.

Dean sighed, "we don't know, Cas."

"The cabin?" Sam suggested, eyes glued to his laptop.

"That would be the first place we'd look and he knows it." Dean said, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"You're assuming he doesn't want to be found," Cas retorted,

"He doesn't,"

"He has nowhere _else_ to go." Sam said, reasonably, leaning back in his chair and stroking his chin. "We haven't exactly taken him travelling. He was born at the cabin, then he went to jail. We've only taken him out on two cases and I doubt he'd want to go back to Dodge,"

Cas let out a groan. Dean considered a moment, then pulled out his phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Our therapist." Dean ignored the confusion and outrage on the angel's face as he scrolled through his contacts and pressed the right number. He pressed the phone to his ear with his shoulder and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mia? It's Dean… Winchester."

There was a short pause.

"Dean. Hi, I wasn't expecting to hear from you." The voice was wary, Dean didn't blame her, he hadn't exactly been his most charming on that day.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to ask. Is Jack with you? Have you seen him?"

"Err… no. Why?"

"We, err… had a family discussion and he kinda vanished on us. And you know, he seemed to like you, so I thought he might have… Never mind, just, let us know if you see him, okay?"

"Dean, is Sam still with you?"

Dean looked across the table to his brother, frowning."Yeah, he's right here, why?"

"Put him on, would you?"

Dean shrugged and passed Sam the phone. Sam made a few non-committal responses before leaving the room. Dean rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?" Cas asked, eyes following Sam as he left.

"The doc doesn't like me all that much," Dean said, "and I think Sam's gonna get a free session out of it."

"As proud as I am of Sam for seeking help, our priority right now should be Jack," Cas said testily.

"She said she hadn't seen him."

"Did you believe her?"

Dean considered. He wouldn't put it past Mia to lie to him if she thought she was protecting Jack.

"I don't know. Might be worth checking out. Sam'll get a better read on it."

"And the cabin? If he's there, maybe he just needed a few hours to cool off. By the time we get there he could be ready to come home."

Dean's lips pressed together at the worry in Cas' voice, the same tone had been in Sam's too. While the prospect of Jack set loose in the world didn't thrill Dean, it wasn't quite for the same reasons as it was for them. He was more worried about the damage he could do. Not that the kid would mean to hurt anyone, the look on his face when that security guard had cracked his skull open was testament of that, but that didn't mean he wasn't still dangerous. Plus, he doubted very much that they would be the only ones looking for him if word got out. The sooner they brought him back to the bunker the better.

"We can go there too."

"Where else can we look?" Cas flung his arms up in the air, "if he went somewhere new, how are we going to find him? He could be in another country, another _continent_ by now!"

Dean was surprised that Cas hadn't worn a trench into the stone from his pacing, he stood and put himself in the angel's path, forcing him to stop. Dean placed a hand on each arm and met his eyes.

"Cas," Dean said slowly, deliberately, "we will find him, I promise."

Dean watched the struggle in Cas' eyes, the frustration and the desperation, but also the trust. He _believed_ in what Dean said. How exactly Dean had earned that kind of trust, he couldn't fathom. Cas nodded once and a fraction of the tension left his shoulders. Dean let him go.

"Right then. You take the cabin, Sam'll take the docs, I'll keep an eye out from here for any reports that sound like the kid; weird power signals, facial recognition scans, whatever, and I'll keep you posted if I find anything."

Cas nodded again and turned for the door, the practicality of movement adding a purpose to his stride.

"Cas," he called the angel back, then reached into his pocket and tossed something to him, he caught it easily and looked up at Dean with a strange expression.

"Not a scratch," Dean warned.

Cas smiled, conveying his gratitude in that one look. Then he was gone and a minute later, Dean heard Baby's engine roar into life. He winced a little at the idea that he wasn't behind the wheel but he needed to be the touchstone here. Baby would be too tempting after a few hours of restlessness, and he knew that if someone else didn't take her, he'd end up leaving just to feel like he was doing something. Dean sat in front of the open laptop and stared at the screen, tapping in a few commands. Sam had already set up pretty much everything he'd need to spot Jack if he showed.

His brother came back in a few minutes later, placing Dean's phone on the table next to him.

"Where's Cas?"

"Gone to check out the cabin," Dean grunted, his eyes already hurting from the artificial glare. "The doc mention anything useful?"

Sam shrugged, "useful but not relevant. She hasn't seen Jack."

"Doesn't mean he won't show there. We need to cover our bases. You should go check it out, make an appointment with the doc."

Sam snorted, "you want me to go to therapy?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "we could all use some,"

"And you?"

"I'm needed here, in case Jack comes back on his own. Besides, I can't exactly keep a lookout on the power grid if I'm yapping about my feelings."

"You _hate_ being left on overwatch detail,"

"Look, I don't think the kid's gonna come back on his own, and _I'm_ not gonna be the face he wants to see when we find him. You and Cas can talk him around. Words aren't my thing."

"Whatever, can I take the car?"

"Cas has got her."

Sam choked, "you trusted your car to _Cas_?" he spluttered, incredulous.

"He needed to get out fast, besides, I'm not trusting her _to_ Cas, I'm trusting her _with_ him." There was a huge difference as far as Dean was concerned. Sam rolled his eyes,

"Fine, I'll take one from the garage. Call me if anything shows up."

Dean nodded as Sam headed out.

 _Xxx_

Dean bore up reasonably well for the first three hours or so of nothing happening, but by hour five he was on his third coffee and his leg was jittering impatiently under the table. He really did hate being left behind when there was a job to do. But Sam and Cas needed the purpose of _doing_ more than he did. Dean cared about Jack, sure, but it was an abstract kind of caring that stemmed from the fact that his brother and Cas cared about him so much. He wasn't a bad kid, not by any stretch of the imagination, and he had saved Sam's life so that definitely counted for something, but still, Dean was wary.

He wondered absently where the kid would go. Had he gone somewhere sentimental? In which case Sam or Cas would be calling within a few hours, or had he gone somewhere isolated? He seemed to be afraid enough of himself that that was a possibility, for now at least. Maybe he could lie low for a couple of days in some woods somewhere but the kid had to eat and sooner or later he'd have to return to somewhere around people. People who would probably notice that something was a little off with him and report it, which would set off all kinds of alerts on the laptop in front of Dean. But as likely as it was that waiting around would eventually yield results, doing nothing for days wasn't exactly a thought that appealed to Dean, and he doubted the others would like it much either. He tapped his foot on the floor and took a sip of his coffee. Then he opened up minesweeper, it's not like he had anything else to do.

Xxx

Within and hour or so of each other, Sam and Cas both called him with defeated voices, and while Sam agreed that he would stay near the docs for a couple of days just in case Jack did decide to show, Cas was already heading to Dodge as a last-ditch attempt at the sentimental - although not pleasantly so - idea that Jack would go somewhere he knew. Dean didn't try to contradict him, he knew that Cas needed to look, as unlikely as he knew it was. Still no alerts on the computer had shown up, nothing to indicate that Jack was anywhere. Dean ran a hand down his face in frustration. He was angry at the kid but he didn't blame him really. How many times had he and Sam both run away because they thought they were too dangerous to be around? Dean rubbed absently at the crease of his elbow, where the Mark had once been. Maybe the idea of the kid leaving was right, he _was_ dangerous, he _might_ end up hurting one of them. But him not being in the bunker and him being out of their lives were two different things. Jack was out in the world somewhere with only a basic grasp of his powers and probably a price on his head. Dean sighed and stood up to stretch. Feeling a small pop in his spine as he did so. When he sat back down he squinted at the screen and froze. Then he called Sam.

"You found something?"

"I'm not sure," Dean said, "maybe. There's a weird power surge in the woods around the bunker, maybe Jack didn't go that far after all."

"You want me to come back?"

Dean considered for a moment, "no, it could be anything, I'll check it out. If it's him, I'll let you know."

"Right, call me back."

"Will do Sammy."

Dean then called Cas and repeated the conversation before grabbing a backpack and heading out. The power surge wasn't too large and it didn't look that far away on the map. He could walk it. He hiked for maybe an hour, checking the map on his phone to make sure he was headed the right way. The epicentre of the power surge was a small clearing. Dean emerged from the treeline warily.

"Jack?" He called, hand going automatically to the gun in his waistband. The hairs on his neck prickled and he spun, scanning the clearing. A branch snapped and he whirled around, he figured it wouldn't be smart to draw his gun on Jack - the kid already saw himself as a threat - so he kept it where he was, until Asmodeus stepped out into the clearing, white suit pristine, almost glowing in the comparative gloom of the overcast sky. Dean gun arm shot up but the Prince of Hell waved his hand and the weapon went flying from his hand. Suddenly, Dean was pinned to the spot like he'd just been vacuum packed. He could barely breathe. Gasping he glared at the approaching demon.

"I had hoped to find Jack here," Asmodeus drawled, "I've heard rumours that he's skipped town," he paused, tilting his head, "by rumours of course I mean I've had demons keeping an eye out. They told me that there was some ruckus a few hours ago and now the angel and the other one have both split off as though looking for someone. And seeing as you're still here… well, that just leaves one." He made a small gesture with his hand and the pressure on Dean's chest lifted incrementally, just enough for him to be able to speak.

"If you knew he took off, why come here? Kid could be anywhere," Dean spat, resisting the urge to cough.

"I am aware of the concept of 'sentimentality'," Asmodeus said, as though the concept amused him. "I figure a widening circle, with enough time… I'll find him."

"And what makes you think he wouldn't just roast you where you stand?" The Prince of Hell raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you think you're still alive?"

Dean froze, then he forced a laugh,

"If you've been watching us, you'll know me and the kid? We don't get on too well."

"Well…" Asmodeus said, his fingers absently brushing against the scars on his face, "family is complex."

"You son of a-"

The rest of Dean's insult was cut off by another wave of Asmodeus' hand, silencing him, leaving the Hunter once again fighting for breath.

"You'll come back to Hell with me. For insurance purposes, you understand."

Xxx

A second later, there they were, in Crowley's old throne room. Nothing had changed. It was still ridiculous. Dean would have scoffed if he could spare the breath. This throne room that Crowley had been so desperate for, so proud of, it was just a bleak stone room that smelled of sulphur. It had never inspired him with the awe and fear that Crowley had seemed to expect. Then again, Dean had been to the underbelly of Hell, before the endless queues, back when Alistair had ruled. Nothing much compared to that. Asmodeus took no notice of him as he sat on the throne, immobile and choking as he was. The damaged colt was still in the bunker, not that it would have been much use anyway. All he had was the ordinary knife stuffed in his boot. His backpack hadn't been teleported with him. Sam had taken Ruby's knife just in case. Dean had no way to even attempt taking Asmodeus out, even if he'd been able to move he was useless.

Asmodeus seemed to be waiting for something. His eyes didn't once glance over at Dean and other demons filtered in and out, bringing business matters to the Prince, chittering gleefully at the sight of him trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey. Asmodeus tolerated no gawkers. Once he'd given the order he sent the demons away, scuttling like ants, though Dean had a suspicion that not all of the 'reports' coming in were strictly necessary. Not that he was really listening. He kept an ear out for keywords, sure, but the demons seem to have nothing new on Jack, or if they did, they were smart enough not to tell Asmodeus while Dean Winchester was in the same room. Dean cursed silently. This one might be a little tricky.

Xxx

Dean didn't know how many hours passed, demons parading in and out while he fought for every gasp. Asmodeus didn't let up the pressure, didn't give him an inch of wiggle room, didn't even soliloquise like so many other assholes they faced. He merely acted as though Dean was a particularly disinteresting fish, gaping in the corner. Dean didn't know what the Prince of Hell was waiting for. Did he expect Jack to burst in, crawling on his knees, begging for a trade? It's not like anyone knew where he was. His arm was aching where it was still raised, as though his body hadn't yet realised he wasn't still holding his gun, his legs cramped in the aggressive stance and his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. He wondered vaguely if he'd pass out any time soon, though he figured that if he was going to it would have happened already. He was in a stasis of some kind, though plain old exhaustion would get to him eventually even if his struggling airways didn't. He-

Dean flinched as his cellphone rang, the generic tone echoing throughout the dull chamber. Asmodeus' head snapped up, finally towards him. He stood, dismissing the demon in front of him, who was trying to sneak smug looks at the Hunter out of the corner of her eye as she backed out of the throne room in a low bow. Asmodeus sauntered towards him and plucked the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen, 'Cas' it read. The Prince of Hell smirked at Dean's expression.

"Don't waste your prayers," he said, gesturing around the room, "this place is warded against things like that, I've personally ensured it."

Dean's heart sank as Asmodeus put the phone on speaker. Trying to gasp a little louder, trying to force words out of his throat, a gasp, a cough, a shout, _anything_ to give Cas a clue.

"Hey Cas," Asmodeus said in a perfect imitation of Dean's voice, "how's the search?"

"I found him," the relief in Cas' voice was palpable as he spoke the words, "he's with me, in Dodge. He tried to turn himself in."

"Is he okay?"

 _Cas._

Dean prayed with all his might. It was like sending his thoughts to swim through molasses, sticky, dragging the words down before they could reach the angel on the other end.

 _Cas, that's not me._

"As okay as he can be given the circumstances," Cas said with a sigh, "I should be back at the bunker in about four hours. It took me quite a while to convince him to come back."

 _Cas, please, that's not me, don't come home, protect your kid, get away._

"Yeah, well, he's had a rough go," Asmodeus said with a grin that completely contrasted with Dean's sympathetic tone.

"He - he has."

 _Cas, can you hear me? Asmodeus. Take Jack, call Sam, run. Protect them._

Dean couldn't tell if his prayers were getting through. It was so hard to concentrate, he could _feel_ the thoughts trying to escape his head, fluttering in his skull. He also felt like his brain was swelling and he felt something thick begin to drip from his nose.

 _Don't trust his voice, please Cas._

"I'll call Sam," Asmodeus continued, "tell him the good news."

"Okay." Cas paused, "what did that power surge turn out to be?"

"Just a couple of faulty power lines messing with the scanner," Asmodeus said smoothly, raising an amused eyebrow at Dean's bloody nose as if to say _I told you so_ , "no big deal. Just bring Jack home safe."

Dean strained his brain, pushing on the words with everything he had. His head throbbed with pain, pressure building to a critical mass behind his eyes. Still he prayed.

 _They know where you are, they'll be coming for you. Poughkeepsie. Run. Hide somewhere safe, he knows where the bunker is. Get Sam, protect them. I'm counting on you, Cas. Please hear me._

"Right."

"I'll see you in a few then."

"Sure. Oh, and Dean?"

 _Please don't tell him anything else, Cas, that's not me._

"I'm going to have to ditch the car. I think the sheriff saw me smuggle Jack out of the station, he probably has people looking,"

"As long as you and Jack are okay, that's the main thing." Asmodeus said, "I'll see you soon, don't worry about the car,"

Dean sagged in relief. Or, as much as he could in this shrink wrapped, immobile nightmare. Cas had heard him. He _knew_. He'd get Sam and Jack out. They could find another Men of Letters bunker to hunker down in, or maybe go to Jodie's. Whatever, they weren't going back to Kansas until they had a way to kill the smug son of a bitch standing in front of him. There was no way in hell that Cas would have ditched Baby for something as small being seen by the law.

Asmodeus seemed to mistake Dean's sudden limpness for defeat and chuckled. He straightened his waistcoat before settling back into the throne.

Dean's head felt like it was going to explode, but he pushed two more words out to Castiel, hoping that the angel heard them.

 _Thanks, Cas_.

Then, unconsciousness took him.

Xxx

"What do you mean, you don't know where he is?" Sam raged. They were in a motel room in Sioux Falls, a midpoint between their two locations. Cas had driven the long way around to avoid the bunker completely. He had saved the full explanation until they had met in person, Jack in tow. The boy was sitting quietly on one of the beds, head bowed in shame and guilt.

"I meant what I said, Sam. I don't know." Cas understood Sam's anger, he felt it too. "I got a few broken prayers telling me to get out, to find you and get somewhere safe, that the voice on the phone wasn't him."

"Do you know who it was?"

Cas considered. He hadn't caught a name if Dean had sent one. Just a burst of static and a few broken phrases.

"He was blocked somehow. His prayers weren't as clear as they should have been," he said, beginning to pace. Fear curling in his chest, worry for Dean, worry for Jack. Worry that Sam would do something reckless.

"Asmodeus," Sam said quietly. Cas stopped pacing to look at him. His face was contorted in a pained expression. "Who else can imitate voices like that? Who else has been looking for Jack? Who else would be able to block prayers? Unless you think an angel-"

"No," Cas said, I think you're right." There had been a moment. _As day,_ Cas had thought at the time, but that made no sense given the context. "Unfortunately, _knowing_ doesn't mean anything. The colt is damaged, unless we can fix it-"

"I can do it." Jack's voice piped up from the bed. "He ran from me."

Cas and Sam exchanged looks, Jack's face tightened.

"You don't think I can," he said, "you don't think I can do it."

"Jack," Sam said, sitting down next to the Nephilim, placing a hand on his shoulder, "it's not that we don't believe in you. But you don't have full control of your powers yet. That's okay, we could never have expected it from you, you're new to all of this, and power like you have, it takes time to master."

"Centuries in some cases," Cas nodded solemnly. "You've come such a long way in such a short time Jack but that isn't the only reason we can't let you face him."

Jack looked up at the angel frowning. Cas smiled at the boy, he knew it wasn't a particularly jovial smile, but it was genuine.

"Then, why-?"

"It's what he _wants_ , Jack," Sam explained. "He _wants_ you to go to him. You wouldn't be able to hurt him until we found out where Dean was, and even then…" Sam's voice trembled and he cut off. Cas carried on with the explanation.

"He's trying to use Dean to get to us," he said, his own mind racing with thoughts of what Asmodeus could be doing to his friend. He must know there was something wrong by now, he had said four hours, but it has taken him nine just to get here. Asmodeus would know he wasn't coming, would know Dean had managed to -

He pushed those thoughts down. They weren't helpful right now. He needed to explain. "He knows that we care about Dean. He knows that he can no longer try and trick you into doing what he wants, so instead he's going to use Dean as… leverage."

Jack's eyes widened.

"So he's going to kill Dean, because of me?"

"No," Sam said, "he can't kill him, or he'd have nothing to bargain with. He needs him alive."

"Alive," Jack echoed. "But not whole."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded.

"So I should do what he wants!" Jack cried, standing, fists clenched at his sides "I should just do whatever it is and we can get Dean back and then... undo it?" His voice trailed off as a half question. Cas' heart swelled with pride at Jack's bravery, his willingness to do whatever it took to save his friend.

"Jack," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder, "It's not so simple as that. Whatever Asmodeus wants… we have no idea how catastrophic it could be, how many people could suffer because of it. Or even if it _could_ be reversed. We don't even have a guarantee we'd get Dean back. Asmodeus could kill him as soon as he has what he wants. We can't risk it. Not for one man."

The words shattered something inside of him even as he knew the truth of them. Sam nodded, tears leaking from his eyes.

"Besides," Sam said, eyes wide and honest, "you're just as much family as Dean is. I won't risk you to save him. I can't lose you too."

Jack looked at him for a long time, then nodded.

"So we find another way."

Cas looked at Sam who flashed him a ghost of a smile.

"Yeah," Sam echoed, "we'll find another way."

Jack and Sam headed for the small table to plan their next move. Castiel watched them. He kept his ears strained for any more prayers from Dean but it had been hours and nothing. Dean wasn't dead, of that he was sure. He was too valuable to the one that held him. But like Jack said, he wasn't needed to be whole. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to when he had first seen Dean Winchester.

Xxx

 _He followed the call of the soul into the depths of Hell and found him. Broken, bathed in blood, laughing, revelling in the violence of it, hacking away at another. Eyes wild and rolling, half-mad as he sliced and tormented the soul before him. Castiel had been repulsed. Heaven wanted this creature to be saved? This abomination? Who took so much pleasure in the pain surrounding him, pain that_ he _had caused. This was no victim, this was barely more than a demon itself._

 _Then, he had turned to look at Castiel, defiant until the last second. And Castiel looked into his eyes and_ saw _. He saw the pain, the guilt, the self-loathing. He saw what every twist of the knife had done, what every scream Dean had caused had done. He saw the thirty years he had endured before his soul had finally broken, and the ten after that. He was strong. He had been so strong. But he had broken once, and broken a little more every day since. Castiel had been wrong that Dean was not a victim. Dean Winchester suffered more than all of the souls he himself had tormented. Dean stared at Castiel and he was not afraid._

" _Can you end me?" Was all he asked, his voice cracked from lack of use._

" _That is not why I'm here."_

" _Can you?"_

" _Yes."_

" _But you won't."_

" _No."_

 _Dean nodded and Castiel saw a little of the hope die, a new fissure forming in his soul._

" _I don't deserve anything better," he said, gesturing at the limp slab of meat hanging on the rack behind him, "you should take them. Any of them. All of them. Just not me." Castiel couldn't help but be impressed at how lucid he was. Most of the broken souls in this place were gibbering wrecks, screaming, crying, confused, afraid, hurting._

" _It's not my decision to make."_

" _Where are you taking me?" He seemed resigned. Neither pleased nor displeased._

" _Back to Earth."_

 _He changed then, he dropped the knife, he stood up straighter and his soul positively exploded with light._

" _Take me," he said._

 _Castiel shouldn't have questioned, it served no purpose, he had his orders and he would be taking Dean Winchester regardless of his opinion of the matter. But… he_ was _curious. This soul intrigued him._

" _Why?" he asked._

 _Then, Dean smiled, a smile that outshone his soul, a smile that spoke of things warm and safe and happy._

" _Sammy." He said._

 _Castiel didn't question any more, he didn't have anything else to say. He moved forward and gripped Dean's arm. The man didn't flinch while his flesh sizzled, he didn't cry out when he stretched his wings and pushed off. He just held Castiel's gaze steadily, as though daring him to be a lie._

 _Xxx_

Cas shook himself, returning to the present, the small motel room. Sam and Jack huddled together at the table. Castiel could see the strain in Sam's face as he turned to look at him, gesturing him over. Castiel took the remaining seat, looking between the two of them, trying to think of a plan, a next step. Where could he take them? Where would be safe?

 _Protect them._

 **So what do you think? This was another tricky one to write. I seem to be much more comfortable with mostly plotless fluff but I'm trying to work on my weaknesses by actually doing some plot-driven stories and it's actually quite fun. Although admittedly, pretty much all of my SPN fics involve Dean getting tortured in some way.**

 **All feedback is welcome and appreciated.**

 **Love Tibbins xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! So here's the second and final chapter of this story!**

 **This will probably be my last fic until next week. I doubt I'll have the time to write over the weekend because I'm going on flat viewings! Exciting stuff.**

 **I would like to thank the guest reviewer Kirsten, who pointed out my incorrect use of the word 'abject', you are completely right, I did mean 'abstract', I can only blame a brain fart xD. Thank you so much for pointing it out, I fixed it :)**

 **This chapter also has tortured Dean because I'm clearly a monster.**

 **Enjoy ^_^**

The phone call came a few hours later. Cas placed the phone on the table and answered, they had been expecting this. Jack left the room as per their agreement. Sam and Cas had both pointed out that Asmodeus would try to get into his head, try and tempt him into doing something reckless by telling them Dean's supposed location. They assured him that they trusted him to make the right decision, but that the _right_ decision wasn't the same as the decision that they needed to make. It was better to spare him that dilemma. Jack hadn't needed much convincing. Cas was glad of that, at least.

"So, I guess there's no point in pretending," Asmodeus drawled as soon as the call connected, "Dean clearly managed to warn you somehow. Pushed his way through the warding blocking his prayers I suspect. I'm almost impressed. Even though the effort did make him comatose for a while." There was a smirk in the voice. Sam and Castiel looked at each other, eyes echoing their own worry, "seeing as there's no… _deception_ this time, whatever he prays won't matter. He's in Hell, of course. In the throne room. Though he will be moved shortly, many times, throughout Hell and out in the world, sporadically, no routine. Most places he won't know, one or two he _might_." There was a harsh bite to the word. "Not that knowing those places will help him any, nor will it help you find him. So. You have Jack."

"We do," There was no point pretending otherwise.

"Good. You will bring him to… Well… I'll send you the co-ordinates."

"We won't be coming."

There was a brief pause on the other end.

"Well, I suppose you need some extra incentive then." There was another slight pause, then a loud gasp which slowly built into a scream of absolute agony, Dean's scream. Sam's fists were shaking on the table. Cas closed his eyes as though that might block out those terrible sounds.

"For every hour you delay, it only gets worse for him," Asmodeus said, the scream finally cutting off.

 _Don't_

The word was small, fractured and surrounded by static. Castiel flinched when it filtered through to him.

"Oh, and if you really don't show up, say I give you a maximum of twenty four hours of 'worse', then I start hunting you down. I won't kill Dean, oh no. I'll just take him, body and soul, and throw him back in the pit you rescued him from. Alistair may no longer be around, a shame, he was very accomplished, but I daresay there will be plenty of around the clock volunteers, properly warded against angels of course, not even God could break him out. And he'll stay there, for eternity."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam exploded, slamming his fist down on the table. Cas reached out to steady him. His own insides felt leaden.

"Every hour it gets worse for him," Asmodeus repeated. "Let's get back to it shall we?" The call went dead, but not before the screaming started again.

They were both shaking. Cas placed his hand over Sam's own and they sat for a few moments, united in their pain. After a few seconds, the phone buzzed with a text, the coordinates. Sam snatched it up.

"What are we going to do?" He asked in a small voice, staring at the screen before dropping the phone back on the table. Cas thought back. He thought of Dean, his smile when he had thought of his brother in Hell, his pleading green eyes as he persuaded him to wear that absurd hat, his fierce righteousness in Purgatory, slicing through any obstacle, any threat. The set of his jaw when he was angry. His scream.

 _Protect them._

"We run." Cas said simply.

Sam looked at him, eyes wide, astonished, _hurt._

"What?" He said, in a huff of breath, as though he couldn't quite believe the words.

"We take Jack somewhere safe and hide until we find another way."

"You're serious?"

"What about my tone indicates that I'm joking?" Cas said, sharper than he had intended, "Dean told me to protect you. That's what I'm going to do."

"Cas, we have to get him back! You _heard_ him, we can't just leave him to be tortured like-" he stopped, seemingly unable to think of a simile.

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, he understood Sam's frustration, he _felt_ it. Anger blossomed in his chest, _Dammit Dean,_ he thought, _damn you for doing this to me_.

"Sam," Cas said, standing and beginning to pace once again, "do you think this is easy for me? You think I can _stand_ the thought of what he's going through? I can't. But we won't give Jack to Asmodeus. I won't do it. We have _no other way_ of defeating him with the colt damaged like it is. If we show up at that place, without Jack? He'll take us too and then what could Jack do but try and save us all?"

"But, Dean-"

"If I put you and Jack in that position, do you think that Dean would _ever_ forgive me? If I got you killed, or allowed Jack to help Asmodeus destroy the world, do you think he would ever be able to look at me again?

"This isn't about your damn _pride_ , Cas!"

"Dean gave me a job to do." Cas said, trying to ignore how tight his chest was, "we all know he would rather be the one suffering in place of any of us."

"I don't care what he wants!" Sam roared, "we have to save him! He'd do the same for any of us! He can't expect us to just leave him."

"How exactly do you propose we save him?" Cas countered, stepping up to the taller Winchester. "Jack needs us. We can't leave him alone and if we put him in Asmodeus' path the entire _world_ will suffer. Do you think Dean could bear being responsible for that if he somehow survives?"

"We could train Jack up, get him ready."

"We can," Castiel agreed, nodding, "but training will take time. Could be months, years, before he's ready and by that point Dean will be beyond his help."

"So you're saying we give up on him? Do you not care about him at all?"

Something snapped inside Cas and he slammed Sam against the wall.

"You think I don't _care?!"_ He yelled, easily holding the struggling man, "you think the thought of him in Asmodeus' hands isn't _killing_ me? You think the sound of him screaming doesn't tear me apart? I FELL for that man! I rebelled against Heaven, against my siblings and my garrison and I rejected everything I had ever known for _him_. Because _he_ told me it was right. He made me _believe_ it." Cas dropped Sam and collapsed onto the bed, head in hands, fingers clenched in his hair. "I gave up everything I had for him. If I thought it would help, I would go after Asmodeus myself. But it wouldn't help. It wouldn't get Dean back and I have Jack to consider now. I won't betray Dean's trust in me. Not this time. We have to run."

Sam sat crumpled on the floor where Cas had let him go. All the fight seemed to have drained from him. After a long moment, he nodded and stood, only to sit next to the angel. They leaned into each other, a silent comfort.

"I'm sorry I said that." Sam said eventually. "I know you care. I know want him back as much as I do."

"It's alright," Cas replied, softly, "I understand."

After a few minutes, Cas went to retrieve Jack, he was in the diner across the street but stood up from his meal immediately when Cas entered, following him back to the hotel room.

"We have to find a way back into the bunker," Sam declared when they were all gathered.

"I thought you said Asmodeus would have people watching?" Jack said, tilting his head and frowning.

"Dean couldn't have been far from the bunker when he was taken" Cas said, "it's compromised, there'll be a constant guard and Asmodeus could show up the second we're spotted."

"It's still the safest place we know," argued Sam, "There will be no way Asmodeus can get in,"

"Are there any other bunkers?" Jack asked, "ones that he doesn't know about,"

Sam frowned, considering. "There are," he said slowly, "but, _we_ don't know where they are either. Scattered around the world probably, and we'll be too easy to find if we go to an airport."

"I think I remember reading about another bunker," Cas said, the memory floating back to him, "in the library. I read a lot while you sleep and it said something about there being a second base of operation in Montana. The Men of Letters wanted a waypoint near the Canadian border."

"Great!" Sam said, "do you remember exactly where?"

Castiel strained his mind and nodded. "There was a map. I can get us to the general area. It looked to be in a national forest of some kind, masquerading as a ski lodge or something similar."

Sam scooped up the Impala's keys from the table and they all headed out. It would take them at least seventeen hours to get there. They couldn't waste a second.

 _Xxx_

They were going into the fourteenth hour of pain now. It was actually pretty easy to keep track, Asmodeus had had a giant digital timer brought in. Dean had made a comment about it clashing with the rest of the décor but Asmodeus had ignored that jibe and Dean had let out a gasp of pain. It spiked and ebbed unpredictably, making it impossible to predict, impossible to prepare for the surges. As the Prince of Hell had promised, there was a new dimension to the agony at each hour and Dean watched the clock, dreading for the final two numbers to click over to zero. He still couldn't move and the pressure against his chest seemed to keep him both conscious and gasping. At least he could talk now, although he did his best to stay as silent as possible.

He was consciously holding in his prayers now. He would cry out and a prayer to Cas would automatically form in his mind. He held it back. It wouldn't do anything. It would only make Cas feel like crap. Cas had to stay away, he had to keep Jack and Sam away. They had to stay safe or what was the point of anything? Another spike of pain shot through him and he bit back his moan. He remembered pain like this. All consuming, impossible to ignore or detach from. He felt every damn second and it really freakin' _hurt_. Where though? That was the question. The pain seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, gnawing on his lip did nothing to distract him, even when he drew blood. He guessed that Asshole-deus was messing directly with his brain. At least with Alistair there had been blood and guts and violence. This was just… cold. Asmodeus barely even looked at him, he just twitched a finger every so often, glancing at the clock, waiting for the next hour to up the painful ante. There was no bloodlust, it was purely businesslike.

By hour eighteen, Dean had given up trying to hide his pain. With each new, more frequent and intense spike came a scream or a gasp, the ebb got lesser and the pressure on his chest only increased. Dean howled and screamed and moaned and when one of the spikes didn't lessen, but began it's own ebb and flow like a needle jammed right into a nerve and _twisting_ , Dean began to sob. All he could hold on to were images of Sam, Cas and Jack and the knowledge that they would be safe, as long as they stayed away. Worry still curdled in his gut, but he forced his brain to focus on that phone call. They wouldn't come. They wouldn't come. They had to let him go.

Asmodeus picked up the phone again on hour twenty three, Dean was shaking, screaming, crying by this point. If he'd been able to move freely he would have curled into a ball. Instead he still stood, eyes staring wide at the clock. _How?_ He thought, _how is this getting worse? How can it?_ But it could, he knew that it could. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't strengthen him against the pain he was feeling. It just made him afraid of what the next hour would bring, and the one after that. His brain was fuzzy, he heard the dial tone and then he heard Sam speak. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline to his system and he focused for a brief moment, allowing him to actually hear the words.

"You're not getting Jack."

Dean's heart swelled with pride at the determination in his brother's voice. Asmodeus raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"No." Jack said, his voice was small and it quavered slightly.

"Ahh, Jack. Excellent. I'm glad you're there." He flicked his fingers.

Then the pain overtook him and he couldn't think for a while.

By the time it had lessened enough for him to focus again, Asmodeus was laughing and Sam and Jack were calling his name, strained and desperate.

 _Don't let them break_ he prayed, forcing the thought from his mind. He felt his nose start to bleed again with the effort and the increased pressure in his brain meant he let out an involuntary gasp.

"I won't." Cas said. His voice gravelly and hoarse. As pained as the rest of them, but steady.

"You won't?" Asmodeus said, mockingly. Well, I might have to just come to you then."

"You can't get at us here," Jack said, defiance in his tone.

Asmodeus chuckled, "Oh, can't I?"

Dean started screaming again.

 _Protect - leave me – Oh crap it_ hurts! Dean scrambled desperately inside his head, trying to pull that last bit back, the part infused with his pain, Cas didn't need-

But a choking sound on the other end of the phone told him that the angel had gotten his prayer.

"Dean-" he began. Then he seemed to stop himself. Dean forgot this almost immediately, all he could feel was blinding pain, white fire behind his eyes, every pore was screaming, every strand of sinew, every cell of his body _screamed_. He may have sent out more prayers, if he did, he wasn't aware of them, all he had was the pain, the pain and that damn clock, which had been moved with him each time he had been teleported out. The red numbers flashing 01:00

"Well, you have one more hour to decide. I think I might come to you. I know you're in the bunker in Montana. I _was_ around for the building of all the bunkers and this cellphone tracks back to roughly twenty miles from there. It pays to keep an eye on these things. And just to keep my promise…"

Dean's voice cracked with the intensity of his screams, "we're in the last leg, gentlemen. Jack, only you have the power to save your friend. Do the right thing now or he will suffer for eternity."

Dean didn't hear the line go dead, he only knew that it must have, but that thought was far away, engulfed by the agony that trembled through him, consuming his skin, slick with sweat, his muscles and sinew, down to his bone marrow. Asmodeus cut off his screams and that made it worse somehow. It was all he could do to tremble, the agony building with no outlet, nothing. He still couldn't move, he felt his vocal cords straining, bursting, desperate to let loose, to give voice to his pain. Hot blood poured from his nose. Was he praying? He tried not to. But his effort was concentrated elsewhere, his effort was swallowed by the pain. The only image burned in his vision now were the red digits of the clock.

 _Xxx_

Sam ended the call and slid the phone away along the table a little too forcefully, it landed on the stone floor with a clatter. None of them went to retrieve it. They just sat there, huddled the main room of a bunker that looked very like their own, but with enough differences to remind them that it wasn't home. For one thing, Dean wasn't there with them.

"He's being badly hurt." Jack said, brow scrunching as though the concept didn't make sense to him.

"Yes," Cas said, his voice hoarse. He was trying to ignore the fragments of prayers that were coming through to him now, infused with pain, broken screams and begging to make it stop. Apologies and pleas. Castiel found his clenched fist shaking in his lap and flexed his hand.

"If Asmodeus is coming to us," Jack said slowly, "and he brings Dean, why can't I go out and scare him away again?"

"He could kill Dean the moment you even start to use your powers," Sam explained, "or take him with him when he runs."

"That might still be our best option," Cas said.

"Cas! Asmodeus could _kill_ him, with barely a thought!"

"You can't hear him, Sam," Cas said, voice strained, meeting the younger Winchester's eyes. "Death would be preferable."

Sam's eyes glazed over with pain. "Not in Hell," he whispered, "Asmodeus has him, body _and_ soul. Even if the body dies…" he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Cas looked down, ashamed. He knew that, he did. But the prayers were distracting him, not allowing him to focus. Though judging by the pain they were projecting, Castiel wasn't sure that Dean was even aware he was praying. They were thoughts born of pure desperation and fear. Each one was like a stab wound to his own chest.

"We need to find a way to neutralise Asmodeus' powers." Sam said, tactfully ignoring the way that Cas wiped impatiently at his eyes, "if we can separate him from Dean long enough we might be able to get him to safety."

"We shouldn't even go out to confront him," Cas said, "like we agreed,"

 _Protect them_

"We have to do something!" Jack cried, standing, agitated. "You heard him on the phone!"

"Yes," Castiel said, passing a hand over his face, "I heard him. I _hear_ him. But I also know him. He wants us to stay away. He wants me to keep you safe. I can't guarantee that if we go to confront Asmodeus."

"He's coming to us anyway." Sam said reasonably, "whether we like it or not, we need to prepare, we need to make a plan. We can't just hole up in here for the rest of our lives. Jack is the only thing we have that can fight him-"

"I won't put Jack in harm's way!" Castiel said, testily. "We discussed this, Sam. He's not ready, he's young and inexperienced and that _matters_. Asmodeus has been alive for _eons_ , he knows his abilities, he knows how to use them, he knows his own limitations. Jack doesn't have that scope yet, without that, we have no idea what he's vulnerable to. Asmodeus might. We can't take that risk!"

"I want to try." Jack said, facing Castiel, shoulders squared. "I _have_ to try. It's about what I _do_ , right? Saving Dean is good, it's the right thing. Hiding down here, knowing I could help… That's wrong."

Cas clenched his jaw as he stared at the child, so determined, so _sure_. He'd never faced anything this large, he didn't understand the scale of loss they would be risking.

 _Cas, please – sorry – can't – Sammy –_

The prayer filtered through like the rest, piercing him. Then he wilted. Just as Dean would never forgive him for putting Jack and Sam in danger, he would never forgive himself if he didn't at least _try_ to save Dean.

"Very well," he said, voice cracking, "we have fifty-two minutes. Let's make a plan."

 _Xxx_

Asmodeus appeared at the edge of the treeline. Sam and Castiel shared a glance, the same one they always shared before a battle, before a trial, the resignation to the inevitable and the reassurance of the other at their side. They were outside the bunker, only a few feet away from the door. They had left the door propped slightly open in case they needed a quick retreat. Cas hoped they would be fast enough if that particular escape route was needed. He might be able to buy the others a few seconds against Asmodeus but no more than that. Asmodeus sauntered his way across the clearing at a leisurely pace.

"Where's Dean?" Jack yelled, voice catching. Castiel too felt the urgency. Sam glanced at the ground between Asmodeus and Jack, trying to judge his pace, a worried crease between his eyes, tensed, ready to spring forward and grab Jack if anything went awry. Asmodeus merely smirked and suddenly, Dean was there. He was completely silent, floating in mid-air, twisting and writhing, Castiel could hear his bones grinding against each other, his heartbeat stuttering far too quickly. He could _hear_ as Dean's vocal chords strained, on the brink of snapping. Cas put a hand out in front of Sam to stop him running forward. Jack took a few steps before recovering himself, eyes darting between the silently screaming Dean and Asmodeus.

"Let him go," Jack said. Asmodeus was still halfway across the clearing, advancing slowly. His grin widened and Jack took a half-step back.

Cas could feel the call. Dean was so close, every single cell that made up his being screamed for him to run to Dean, to heal him, to destroy Asmodeus where he stood for _daring_. Instead he clenched his fists and kept silent, though his eyes wouldn't leave Dean's struggling form, coiling and uncoiling like a tortured snake.

"Not until I get what I want," Asmodeus said, calmly, stopping where he stood, "you are going to come with me Jack. And I will return you and Dean to safety once the task I have for you is complete. You won't get a better deal than that, I assure you. Otherwise, things are going to go poorly, for _him_ ," Asmodeus waved his hand and Dean twisted, spine straining to form an 'n' shape, his eyes wide and staring, mouth a perfect 'o', as Cas watched, blood vessels popped, staining the whites of his eyes with a red film. This time, it was Cas who started forward and Sam had to seize him around the torso to hold him back.

"Cas, I know. I _know_ , take a breath." He muttered. Cas did, forcing his eyes closed to re-centre himself for a moment. Ignoring Asmodeus' chuckle as Sam let go of him. Jack looked back at them, eyes frightened. Cas moved forward again to stand in front of him,

"He won't be handing himself over to you." Cas said, his eyes still flicked up towards Dean, "you won't be taking him anywhere."

"Is that so?" Asmodeus said. His voice had an oily quality to it that made Cas want to recoil but he stood his ground. Until of course, he was tossed aside by a wave of Asmodeus' hand. The Prince of Hell started forward again, Jack stumbled backwards into Sam, who steadied him. Asmodeus took one more step and –

Dean dropped suddenly, crashing to the ground, gasping and trembling. Cas, who was closest to him after being thrown in his direction, scrambled to his feet and rushed forwards to drag him away, back towards the door of the bunker. Asmodeus looked down at his hand confused, then he scanned the ground. Sam flicked open a lighter and threw it. The Holy Fire burst up around the Prince of Hell in the shape of a Devil's Trap. Asmodeus snarled, the motion baring his teeth, the flames highlighting the scars on his face.

"Clever," he said, "but this won't hold me for long."

"It doesn't need to," said Jack, stepping forward out of Sam's protection. Castiel dragged Dean clear. The Hunter shaking violently in his arms, but he didn't have time to stop and comfort.

Jack's eyes glowed golden with his power and after a glance towards Castiel and Dean, he raised his hand at Asmodeus.

"You hurt my friend!" he roared. Castiel felt a prickle of electricity rush down his spine, the same feeling he got in the middle of a storm. Dark clouds began to gather overhead, birds took off, shrieking from the trees. Lightning flashed and thunder howled but not a drop of rain fell. Jack screamed as he let loose a burst of power straight at Asmodeus, it ripped through him, blood spurted from his torso and he dropped to his knees in the trap with a cry. His eyes were wide and displayed both awe and fear as he gazed up at Jack. Then, the wind picked up into a screaming gale and another pulse of power left Jack's hand. Castiel couldn't see if it connected or not, the wind had dampened some of the Holy fire and broke the connection. Asmodeus vanished from the trap.

Sam and Jack rushed over to Dean,

"We should get him inside," Jack said, "he looks bad."

Cas nodded and waved away Sam's offer to help, lifting Dean easily. He wasn't completely conscious, red tinged tears leaking from his eyes as he twitched and moaned. Castiel whispered to him softly as he headed towards the bunker, Sam and Jack trailing behind, telling him that he was safe, that it was all over now. That they would be home soon.

"Cas," he mumbled, voice cracked.

"I'm here, Dean, I've got you,"

The Hunter said something else and twisted in his arms, burrowing his head into Cas' shoulder. When they were inside, Cas laid him carefully down onto one of the beds. The layout of this bunker was surprisingly similar to the other one, mostly underground, although it did look like an old ski lodge from the outside, they hadn't been able to find a way into that part of the building yet.

Sam and Jack crowded into the room after him, Sam kneeling next to the bed, tears in his own eyes, Jack sat on the chair at the desk, hugging his knees as he watched silently. Castiel sat on the bed after placing Dean down and pressed his fingers to Dean's forehead. He pushed his grace outward, willing it to heal. It was more sluggish than usual, slow to cooperate. Cas sat there for almost a full minute before he felt any of his grace trickle out.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, clasping his brother's hand, "what's wrong?"

"My grace is being… difficult," Cas answered. Pressing his lips together and concentrating his effort. It was more strenuous than it should have been, and not a little painful, but Castiel persevered. This was nothing compared to what Dean had just endured, he _needed_ to ease his friend's pain as much as he could.

After a while he sighed and sat back, drained.

"That is as much as I can do for now. I've managed to repair his eyes and the damage to his throat and brain. But there isn't much physical harm. He'll be fine. I'll continue to heal him overnight. He should wake up by morning.

Sam nodded, still kneeling. Cas went to fetch a chair for him and he smiled gratefully. They stayed that way in silence for over an hour, listening to the soft groans and tremors coming from Dean. It was almost peaceful.

Eventually, Sam sat back and ran a hand through his hair. Then he stood and stretched.

"It doesn't look like he's going anywhere for a while. Jack, are you hungry? Come help me find something for dinner."

Jack nodded and slipped out of his seat. Castiel touched his arm as he passed.

"You did brilliantly today, Jack. I'm so proud of you."

Jack's face burst into a smile, which faded as he looked at Dean.

"He got hurt because of me."

Cas smiled softly, "no, he got hurt because of Asmodeus. He'll be okay because of you. There's a difference. And I cannot even begin to express my gratitude."

Jack nodded again and followed Sam out, closing the door behind him. Castiel sighed and took Dean's hand between his own, allowing himself to feel the strong pulse, the warmth of his skin, the soft gasps of breath making his chest rise and fall. Every broken prayer that Dean had sent to him came rushing into his head and Castiel allowed himself this time alone to break into quiet sobs. His strength was no longer needed, he could allow himself to feel the pain that Dean had felt, he allowed the fear of the past few days to consume him. His fear for Dean, his fear for Jack, his fear for Sam, his fear that the plan would go awry and it would have been his fault. His guilt over the promise he broke, what he had thought would have been his _last_ promise. The last one that mattered. Now that his emotions were no longer locked away they slammed into him like a sledgehammer, pouring from his throat in gut-wrenching sobs. The image of Dean twisting in the air, the sound of his screaming over the phone, the prayers he had broken through a layer of warding to send and the ones he had sent without knowing. He thought of everything Dean had been through, he remembered the feeling when he had decided to abandon him to Asmodeus, to follow his wishes.

Cas bent forward with the force of his sobs and rested his forehead on Dean's stomach. It was a solid presence, hard muscle under the thin t-shirt and plaid. It was warm and Cas could hear the little gurgles a human digestive system made and it was comforting. Castiel stared there long after his tears had dried, holding Dean's hand, feeding pulses of healing grace as soon as he could gather enough to push through. Whatever was wrong with his grace was a problem for another day, another week. That thought couldn't be further from his mind. He concentrated on Dean's breathing which slowly eased and deepened, so Castiel's head moved with the gentle rhythm of his breaths. If he had been human, he would have slept himself. Instead, he floated, taking comfort in Dean's presence, his improving physical state, his scent; of metal, gunpowder and whisky and the sounds of his body as he slept. He fell into almost a trance-like state, drained from using so much of his uncooperative grace, and he stayed that way until he felt a hand carding gently through his hair.

"Cas?"

Castiel blinked and sat up, Dean was awake and staring at him, curiously. He let go of Dean's hand and the one in his hair fell away. Dean frowned, looking concerned.

"Have you been _crying_?"

Cas wiped his eyes quickly and shrugged, embarrassed.

"I was, er, just worried," he said, "healing you with my grace has been difficult and-"

"-are Sam and the kid okay?" Dean interrupted, trying to sit up. His arms wobbled with the effort so Cas reached forward to help him.

"They're both fine. Asmodeus is gone. Dead or just injured we don't know. Jack was amazing. When you're well, we'll make the journey home."

Dean frowned, looking around the room. Cas caught on and smiled.

"We're in Montana. The bunkers are almost identical in decoration."

"Right." Dean said. "And are _you_ okay?"

Those green eyes bored into him, Cas nodded,

"I'm just glad you're awake."

"What was that about your grace?"

"Dean," Cas stopped him, " _you're_ the one who was in peril. I didn't think we could get you back," his voice trembled and he stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Dean was here, he was okay.

Dean, surprisingly, grinned, but the smile was understanding and contained something deeper than joviality.

"It sucks, doesn't it? That feeling."

Cas just nodded.

"I'm sorry about all those prayers I sent," Dean said, "I don't remember most of them but I know I sent some useless ones."

"'useless' isn't the word I'd use," Cas grumbled, "but there's no need to apologise. I know you weren't exactly in your right mind."

There was a short pause.

"Well, I guess I should thank Jack," Dean said, sitting up, going to swing his legs off the bed, "and I'm gonna have to hear this whole story,"

"Of course," Cas said, "but you can't walk yet."

Dean waved him away, stood, and immediately collapsed. Cas rolled his eyes and helped him back onto the bed, sending through another burst of healing.

"It might be a few hours before you're fully healed," he said, "I'll go and get the others." He turned to leave but Dean grabbed his arm.

"Cas, wait."

The angel turned back.

Dean swallowed and looked away, not meeting his eyes. "Thanks for answering me when I needed you. Not just this time, but every time. You've always been there for me, man and… when you were gone… I just, I guess I forgot how to fight. I know I can be a dick about everything. I just want you to know that I missed you. And I'm really, _really_ glad you're not dead anymore. You mean a lot to me, Cas. A hell of a lot." He stopped, a pink flush creeping up his neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Cas smiled.

"You mean a lot to me too, Dean," he said, "perhaps more than I ever thought possible." Gently, slowly, he placed his palm against Dean's where it was still holding his sleeve, and slotted their fingers together. Dean stared at where their hands joined, gently rotating his wrist, but he didn't let go. He pulled Cas towards him, where he sat back on the bed.

The story would come later, the anger that Cas had gone against his wishes and put Sam and Jack in danger, the frank talks and the jokes and the awkwardness and the deliberate lack of touching and even more adventures. That was for later. For now, they were both content to sit, hands clasped, and think about nothing more than how _right_ it felt.

 **So what do you think?**

 **I really hope it didn't seem too easy/convenient/cliche a way to fix the Asmodeus issue but I'd kinda written myself into a corner and didn't really have anywhere else to go with it.**

 **All feedback is loved and treasured.**

 **Love Tibbins xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone!**

 **So yes, this story was (and now is) finished, but I received an intriguing request from dg. sangita who asked for a little brotherly bonding. I agree that there hadn't been too much of that lately this season (although I loved the Sam and Dean dynamic in 13x05), and as much as I adore Destiel and want all things Cas and Dean, I also love Sammy and feel like he also deserves some credit. (I know I messaged you saying I was planning on making this a separate but related fic but I decided against it in the end, because I feel like I still got enough Destiel references for it to stay a cute ending and the brotherlyness is indeed needed)**

 **So this one is dedicated to dg. sangita**

 **Enjoy ^_^**

Sam found some pasta and a few tins of tuna and sweetcorn in the pantry and set to work, smiling as Jack clamoured to help. He gave Jack responsibility over mixing the sweetcorn and tuna together and set the water on to boil. It wasn't a particularly 'breakfast' like meal, but he hadn't exactly been motivated to leave the bunker for a grocery run in the hour or so he'd been awake. As he faced away from the boy, he felt hot tears prick at his eyes and let them fall silently, a smile pulling both sides of his mouth up as he finally allowed the relief that had been building since Asmodeus stepped into the Devil's Trap. Everything had worked out fine. Jack had defeated a Prince of Hell and learned more about his own powers in the process, Dean was safe and would heal and Cas was back with them. Maybe this new development with Jack meant they could start really focussing on getting Mary back. Sam tipped the pasta into the frothing water and subtly used the collar of his shirt to dab at his eyes before he turned to beam at Jack. The boy was mashing the tuna and sweetcorn together with a fork, he had left the tin of sweetcorn half-full and occasionally popped a kernel into his mouth, humming softly.

Yesterday had been a good day.

At least, it had ended well. His smile faded slightly and he turned back to stir the pasta and sprinkle in some salt. He still had that image in his mind of Dean struggling in the air, straining to scream, curled backwards, about to snap. It would be a very long time before he could forget it.

Once the pasta was done, he rummaged around for a colander and drained it, then he dumped it into the bowl Jack had been working from and told him to mix it all together. This kitchen was laid out slightly differently from the bunker he was used to. He kept opening what he was used to being the cutlery drawer, only to find some spare tea towels and a few loose batteries. He almost itched to organise it but they'd be going back to Kansas as soon as Dean was healed enough and then it wouldn't matter that the Men of Letters based in Wisconsin had clearly never _used_ a kitchen if they stored the herbs in the same cupboard as the pans.

Once Sam had managed to locate bowls, forks, and a tray (in the glassware cupboard, why?) he portioned out their improvised dinner and slid a bowl to Jack. He loaded the other two bowls onto the tray.

"I'm gonna take this in to Dean for when he wakes up," he said, ruffling the kid's hair on his way out. Jack smiled but didn't follow, he was getting good at picking up on social cues. Sam pretended to be very intent on making sure that the bowls weren't slipping around on the tray as he entered the room Dean was in. Hiding a smile as his periphery vision caught the outline of Dean and Cas' hands jumping away from each other. When he looked up, Cas smiled calmly at him while Dean shifted his weight, a red flush on his neck.

"Hey," Sam said, placing the tray down on the bedside table and pulling up the chair he had only recently vacated, "I'm glad you're awake. I brought you some tuna pasta. It's not exactly the healthiest of-" He cut off as Dean grabbed the bowl and began shoving pasta into his mouth, Sam grinned, "hungry?"

"Starving. Thanks Sammy,"

Cas glanced at the second bowl on the tray and stood, "I'll go and see if Jack needs anything. Let me know if you need me to heal you some more but we can probably leave for Kansas in a few hours if you're willing."

Dean nodded, watching the angel leave with a rare softness in his eyes. Sam smiled at his brother, then picked up the second bowl of pasta and began to eat.

They didn't speak while they ate, they didn't need to. For now, it was enough to just be in the same room, able to see that the other was okay and enjoy the easy company of siblings. Dean looked paler than he should though, his eyes a little more sunken, a little more haunted. Sam was more than familiar with that look in his brother's eyes by now and he hated it. Of all people, Dean didn't need any more crap to cart around with him. He felt a sudden, savage hope that Jack had managed to kill Asmodeus, for giving Dean more nightmares, more pain, more horror in his life.

"Cheer up, Sammy," Dean said, placing his empty bowl back onto the tray, "you got the son of a bitch."

"Yeah," said Sam, placing his bowl down too, "I just wish we hadn't had to, you know?"

"I get it. It's been a sucky few days."

Sam barked a laugh,

"That's one way of putting it. Dean, I'm so sorry-"

Dean held up a hand, "I'mma stop you right there, Sam. None of this was your fault. Ass-modeus was the one with the big, evil plan, trying to get his hands on Jack. None of this is on you."

"We almost left you there," Sam whispered, thinking back to the hollow look on Cas' face as he made the suggestion, his own anger and then reason, damn _logic_ , telling him to leave his brother in the hands of that psychopath. "We heard you screaming and we still almost _left_ you there." He brought a hand up to rub his temple.

"Hey," Dean said, his voice was gentle but there was no give in it, "It was the right thing to do. It's what I _wanted_ you to do."

"You never would have left me, not for a second-"

"Of course not, that's not the _point_."

Sam looked up at his brother with tear filled eyes. He hated this, he hated that he was breaking down, again. _Dean_ was the one who had been tortured half to death, _Dean_ had been kept in Hell, separated from them, _Dean_ had been the one who suffered. Why was Sam the one crying?

"What _is_ your point?"

"My point is that you're smart. And you're _not_ reckless, and you _wouldn't_ give up Jack when that would have been my first instinct. Not that Cas would have let me." He rolled his eyes. "Sam, we've gone through so much crap. This?" he gestured to himself, "I'll get over it."

"I heard you on that phone, Dean. I _saw_ you outside. You went back to _Hell_. You were tortured constantly, for _days_. How are you not a blubbering wreck right now?"

"Strength of character?"

"Stop." Sam said, with enough force that Dean actually fell silent. "Enough with the jokes. I've known you my whole life Dean, you think I don't know when you're faking? Why won't you just _talk_ to me?"

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face, "Sam, look. I don't know what to say. It sucked. But I heard _you_ on the phone too. And knowing that you were okay? I could take whatever he had," he shrugged, "I just don't know what else to tell you."

"How about something honest?" Sam said with frustration. Dean met his eyes and they glazed over with something. His lips twitched as though he was about to speak. Then Sam sighed, taking pity, "I don't want to push you if you're not ready to talk," he said, raising his hands in surrender, "but I'm just worried. Because when you're like this, locking up everything inside, I - I don't know how to help you, because you won't _tell_ me what you need. And that really sucks because you're my _brother_ , I love you. So when I watch as you do this to yourself? Acting as though _I'm_ the one that needs protecting here, as though you don't need me at all when you're clearly in pain? I'm done with that crap. I'm not gonna let you do it anymore. So, at the risk of engaging in a chick-flick moment, I'm going to ask you how you feel, and dammit you're going to say something _true_. So, Dean. How do you feel?"

There was a pause while Dean gaped, processing his words. In different circumstances, Sam would have laughed at his expression. Instead he waited. He was tired of Dean's 'big brother' act. He'd _proven_ himself, hadn't he? He'd proven to be just as capable, just as strong, just as able to deal when crap hit the fan. And _he_ managed it without an alcohol problem. He knew Dean cared for him. He knew it was just Dean's way of trying to keep his little brother safe. But Sam never _felt_ safe when Dean hid his pain from him. Look at his suicide attempt, was is only a week ago, two? If Dean had come to him, _talked_ to him, told Sam what he needed to help him fight again, Sam would have done anything to make that happen. Instead, he had been forced to watch while Dean deliberately stopped his own heart. It was almost like Dean didn't trust him with his bad feelings, and that really stung.

"Sammy," Dean's voice was hoarse, "I'm scared."

Sam nodded, keeping his eyes on Dean, refusing to show how that tone affected him. He would be the strong one for a change. He would do his best to help Dean get through this.

"I keep expecting it all to just disappear. Like I've just passed out and I'll wake up and I'll be back there, watching those damn numbers. This place, Cas, you. They don't feel real anymore. But like I don't wanna go back to real either. So I'm kinda feeling a bit crazy, right now. I keep expecting it to hurt again, and this time, it won't stop."

Dean looked away, his eyes on his jeans. "You did the right thing. I'd tell you to do the same thing again, every time. But there was a while there when I couldn't even remember who you were. And I know it's gonna bring Alistair back to my head and deal me out a whole new deck of nightmares and I just don't know if I'm strong enough to handle it."

"You don't need to be." Sam said, reaching forward to take Dean's hand. "Tell me what you need."

Dean chuckled, a weak thing, but there was humour in it.

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know what I need. But I thought I'd never see you again so a hug would be nice."

Sam grinned and half-stood, half-leant forward to wrap his arms around his brother. Dean gripped at the back of his shirt tightly. They stayed like that for a long time, and when Dean finally pulled away, Sam didn't mention the damp stain on his shoulder.

"I've got you, Dean. I'll make sure you're okay. And Cas will help too." He emphasised that last part. Dean caught the knowing look in his eye and snorted, looking away, the bridge of his nose reddening.

"Bitch," Dean said, seeming unable to stop the smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Jerk." Sam replied, rising to take the tray of empty bowls. He'd wash up and then they could finally head home. As long as Cas assured him that Dean was okay to drive.

 **So what do you think? It's not particularly long or detailed and if you'd rather stop at chapter 2, I completely understand. It's a really difficult dynamic to capture in writing. There's just so much unsaid between these two and Dean _hates_ breaking down in front of Sam. He always goes on the defensive about it. At least, that's my interpretation. It seems to be a big brother thing where he always needs to be the one comforting Sam, even if it's about Dean's own pain.**

 **Agree, disagree? All feedback and debate welcome and appreciated.**

 **I hope you like it dg. sangita (sorry about the space, it wouldn't show up otherwise) ^_^**

 **Love Tibbins**


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